


The Promise

by kumarei



Category: Revenge (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 20:59:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/299984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kumarei/pseuds/kumarei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nolan Ross meets a man that changes his life, but is left with nothing but a promise that he has to keep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Promise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mayachain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayachain/gifts).



> This story was written before episode 11.
> 
> Happy Yuletide!

Nolan played idly with his tablet screen as he spoke on the phone. He wasn't paying too much attention to the conversation. It wasn't anything important. He was just buying a boat.

"Bring a check down to the docks first thing in the morning," the man said.

“There’s nothing I’d like to do more,” Nolan said.

By the time the man's response came, he had already stopped listening. He had been playing a video, and had just come to a realization. There she was, on his screen. He hadn’t seen her in years. His first feeling was one of incredulity, and he had to let out a chuckle.

He honestly hadn’t expected to see her again. It looked like she had her own plans for this place, though. He was going to have to pay her a visit.

Who would have thought? Amanda Clarke had returned to the Hamptons.

 

“Mr. Ross,” said the executive sitting across from him. He wore a well fitted suit, and had a commanding presence, which made his frowning face all the more ominous.

“If you’ll look at these statistics, I’m sure you’ll see that it’s a good investment,” said Nolan Ross. He did his best to ignore it, but even through his manufactured cool, his panic was starting to show through. He could feel himself sweating.

“Mr. Ross,” the executive said more forcefully. “Please, I’ve heard enough.”

It couldn’t be over. This was Nolan’s last chance. He had to sell it, had to convince them how successful his ideas could be. “It’s practically guaranteed-“

“Mr. Ross!” The executive said, cutting him off. “I have a meeting to get to. I don’t have time for this.”

Nolan blinked. “I can come back later if that’s better for you.”

“I think I have everything that I need to make my decision.” The executive sighed. “Mr. Ross, Nolan, you have to understand. I listened to what you had to say out of personal respect for your professor. Even though I had heard about what you had to say, I felt that I owed you a hearing. It’s not going to work out, though. Even if I were thought your ideas had legs, we’re the wrong people for it.”

“You could get in on the ground floor,” Nolan said.

“No. I’m sorry. As I said, I have a meeting to attend. I’ll have someone escort you out.”

One of the staff came and showed Nolan out of the building. He stood on the sidewalk, staring at nothing. The populous of New York streamed around him, although not without a few dirty looks.

Nolan’s face was pulled into a sneer. They hadn’t even listened to him, hadn’t even given him a chance. It had been his last shot. He had been to every possible company. He had been thrown out of every board room in the state. Now, here he was, empty handed and with nowhere to go. He had taken out a loan after he graduated, but time was rapidly running out. At this rate, he wouldn’t be able to make his rent in a couple of months.

The worst part was that he knew that he was right. They were just too blind to see it. They didn’t understand his vision, didn’t see how the world was about to change. He could be the one to change it. He could be rich and famous, if it wasn’t for them. They had ruined everything.

He stormed back toward the building. People moved aside to let him pass. He took his computer bag in hand, and wound up. Then he threw it as hard as he could against the wall. There was a loud crack, audible even over the din of the city, as the computer’s plastic casing hit the bricks.

It wasn’t enough. Nolan walked forward, picked up the bag, and scattered its contents. Papers flew everywhere, and his computer hit the concrete, remarkably intact.

‘Not for long,’ Nolan thought, and punted the computer into the wall.

“Why!” he yelled. He walked forward and stomped on his computer as hard as he could. “Why don’t they understand?”

There was a symphony of cracking sounds as the computer gave way beneath his foot. The screen and the plastic casing splintered. It still wasn’t enough. Nolan picked it up and prepared to throw it at the wall again, oblivious to the crowd that was gathering around him.

He was about to throw it when a hand clasped around his wrist. Nolan jerked his hand, trying to free it, but whoever was holding on to it had it clasped tight. He turned to find out who was holding him back. If it was one of the people from his meeting today, he was about ready to punch them. The fact that he had never won a fight, and avoided them as much as possible, mad no difference to him. He was mad.

He found himself staring into a pair of cold brown eyes. He stared back, trying to stare the other man down. He couldn’t. His eyes ended up drifting away, unable to keep up the eye contact. He took in the man’s shoulders, which were far larger than mere padding would allow. He followed the arm down, taking note of the way that the muscles strained the fabric of his suit. His gaze finally settled on the huge hand that was holding his wrist.

“Are these yours?” the man asked.

Nolan shook his head, unsure of what the man was asking. “What?”

The man held a handful of papers in front of Nolan’s eyes. “These,” he said. “Are they yours?”

Nolan focused on the papers with some effort. They were the papers that had fallen out of his computer case, his notes for the meeting. He wondered what possible reason the man could have for asking him about them. Well, he couldn’t get in any more trouble than he already was. His life was basically over. “Yes,” he answered.

“Free and clear? No patent or copyright issues?”

“They’re mine!” Nolan said. “They’re fucking mine!” His eyes had nearly filled with tears. He felt himself breaking down. “What do you want?”

The man smiled. At first, Nolan had trouble processing his words. They were the last things that he expected to hear, and his brain completely stopped when he heard them.

“Are you looking for someone to fund you?” The man asked.

“What-“ Nolan stammered.

“I work for someone that’s interested in making investments for the future. I think he’d be interested in what you have to say.”

“Who?” Nolan had exhausted all the possibilities. There were probably no investors in the country that would seriously listen to what he had to say. Not after he had built up his reputation in New York.

“David Clarke,” the man said, entirely straight faced.

His expression didn’t change a bit as Nolan broke down into hysterical laughter.

 

Nolan’s face was locked into a perpetually uneasy smile as he entered the prison facility. The building was modern, almost relentlessly so, but that didn’t stop the heavy doors from making an ominous thunk as they closed behind him, nor did it change the jangling clink of the keys locking him inside.

The guard led him down a corridor to a small locker room. He was instructed to put all of his personal items in the locker. He wasn’t even allowed a pen and paper, much less the electronics that contained his graphs and mockups.

“Hey, no need for that,” Nolan said, as he was being patted down.

“Standard procedure,” responded the prison officer.

Finally, he was escorted into the visitation room, a medium sized room with a table and plexiglass divider in the center. The guard motioned Nolan to have a seat, and remained standing at the edge of the room.

“Can’t we get a little privacy?” Nolan asked.

“Standard procedure,” the guard repeated.

Nolan sat. A few seconds later the door on the other side of the divide opened, and a man in a bright orange jumpsuit was ushered in.

The man had dark blonde hair, and a face that might have been handsome if it hadn’t been so emaciated. The man looked broken. His eyes were cast down as he entered the room, and he didn’t even bother to glance up at Nolan.

Even so, there was a flash of recognition. Nolan had seen the video of Clarke’s capture. Everybody had. He felt mixed feelings. On the one hand, the man looked pitiful. On the other, he deserved it. He had played a role in a terrorist action: the downing of an airplane, in which people had lost their lives. He was a murderer by proxy.

Nolan wasn’t really even sure what he was doing here. He just knew that there was an offer of funding on the table, and that he had no other chance. Moreover, he was curious. Why would a convicted felon be interested in talking to him?

Clarke sat down in the chair across from Nolan, and finally looked up at him. As his ice blue eyes locked on Nolan, Nolan was stunned. Far from the broken look that he carried himself with, the man’s eyes were hard and intelligent.

“I’m not guilty,” Clarke said.

“What?” Nolan said, looking around. “Not sure if you’ve noticed, but you’re in prison.”

“I wanted to look you in the eyes and tell you that,” Clarke said. “I wanted you to understand that you aren’t doing anything immoral in this visit. I was framed.”

“You want me to believe that?”

Clarke’s face remained serious. “It’s the truth. Set up a meeting with my advocate after you leave. I think you’ll be interested in what he has to say.”

“You’re ‘advocate’ told me I shouldn’t be discussing business here,” Nolan said. “What am I doing here?”

“I want you to give me your pitch,” David Clarke said.

“I’d love to oblige, but they took away my stuff when I came in here,” Nolan said.

Clarke smiled a bit. It looked surprisingly good on him. “I know. Make due. We have a little less than half an hour, but you can at least give me the highlights. I’m sure you’ve given enough talks to do that.”

Nolan checked his watch. This was a waste of time. But then again, he didn’t have anywhere better to be. What was half an hour when he was alone and jobless in the city. “Fine,” he said, and started going through an overview of his ideas.

Clarke listened carefully. He was silent for the most part, but every so often he interrupted with a question. Nolan was surprised to find that his questions were intelligent. He felt more comfortable talking to Clarke than he had with any of the other people had talked to. Clarke seemed somehow to understand what he was going for.

He was actually disappointed when it was time to leave. “We can continue this in a couple days, if you’re interested,” Clarke said. “I’m optimistic about what I’ve heard so far. My advocate will get in touch with you tomorrow at the latest to set up some more meetings, but I think you’re really on to something.”

 

Over the next few days, Nolan continued to explain his ideas to David Clarke, and met with Clarke’s advocate to work out the terms of the deal. It soon became obvious that Clarke had every intention of funding him. They closed the deal within two weeks, and Nolan began to construct his new company: Nolcorp.

Although Nolan delivered reports of how he was doing to Clarke, all of the business was handled through Clarke’s advocate. Nolan suspected that the funds were from a hidden account. He doubted that the government would have left the kind of money that he was getting in the hands of a terrorist, even an imprisoned one.

Nolcorp was already showing signs of success. The company wasn’t making money, but initial market tests had been favorable, and other capitol was starting to come in.

In the meantime, Clarke was starting to look better. He was filling out, and wasn’t skin and bones anymore. The steel hadn’t left his eyes, but it was complimented by a hunger. Nolan sometimes found himself examining them. They were interesting eyes, ones that told a long story.

 

Years later, Amanda would press her arm against Nolan’s windpipe, ready to kill him if necessary.

“Do you know how easy it would be to crush your windpipe?” she asked.

She was still the girl that she had been in the juvenile facility. Still going to violence first.

“I don’t think your father would approve,” Nolan answered, his voice strained. “Amanda, your father trusted me.”

“My father trusted everybody,” she answered, but let him go.

 

“You didn’t have to visit again so soon,” Clarke said. “I know you have a lot on your plate right now.”

“It’s no problem,” Nolan said. “Nolcorp is running pretty well without me these days.”

“A good sign,” Clarke said. “You should make sure to keep an eye on them, though. When the cat’s away.”

“They’re fine,” Nolan said.

Clarke’s face suddenly grew serious. “Nolan, I want to thank you.”

Nolan was caught off guard. “For what?” he asked.

“For all of this. Before you came along, my existence was bleak. Now it seems like I have something to live for. You’ve visited me far more than you needed to. You’re more devoted than any son I could have asked for. Nolan, I think of you as a son.”

Nolan looked up at David Clarke, and was surprised at how much these words hurt. He examined Clarke’s eyes, and there was love and appreciation in them, but he found that he was looking for more. Nolan was surprised to find that he wanted a different kind of love. He realized that he visited so much because those kind blue eyes made his heart beat. He found himself completely lost for words.

So he bluffed. “Thank you,” he said, and automatically a smile rose to his face. He felt like it was off kilter, but David Clarke took no notice.

“I have something that I want to ask you.”

“Anything,” Nolan said.

“I have a daughter,” David said. “I think I’ve mentioned her before.”

“Your little angel?”

“My little angel,” David agreed. “If anything ever happens to me, I want you to tell her about me. Explain to her what happened, and show her that I’m not the monster they’ve made me out to be.”

Nolan nodded. “I’ll do it,” he said.

 

His visits slowed down after that, for a while, but Nolan found that he needed David’s affirmation, and missed their conversations, enough that he started visiting as much as he had at the beginning. Seeing David was always a happy time for Nolan, even if he didn’t get everything from it that he wanted. Maybe that’s why it took him so long to realize that something was wrong.

When he did, it was dramatic. David had changed again for the worse. He looked less healthy than he had when Nolan had met him. The circles had returned to his eyes, and his prison uniform wasn’t fitting correctly.

“I think I’m making a mistake,” David said, in a comment unrelated to anything that Nolan had talked about with him.

“What do you mean?” Nolan asked.

“I’m being selfish. Sometimes I think maybe I should just let Amanda think that I’m guilty.”

“You’re not, though,” Nolan said. “Why would you want her to think that?”

“When she finds out that I’m innocent, there are two things that she can do about it. She can live with it, or she can get revenge. Neither of those are easy roads.”

“Neither is thinking your dad was a terrorist.”

“I’m just afraid that I won’t be around to help her though it. I wish I knew that she was going to be alright.” David sighed. “I think I might have to ask you to keep that promise.”

Nolan couldn’t meet his eyes. “You’ll be alright,” he said.

“And if I’m not?”

Nolan winced. It wasn’t something he wanted to think about. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll help her.”

“I just want her to live a happy life,” David said. “I wish it could be easy for her, but it’s too late for that.”

“I’ll be there for her, even if you’re gone,” Nolan said, even though it pained him. He didn’t want to lose David. “I help her through it. I promise.”

 

It was nearly the last conversation that Nolan had with David Clarke. David passed away soon afterwards. Nolan was left with the task of delivering a box to Amanda. The box was carved with a double infinity, and contained the items that would show Amanda that her father wasn’t a terrorist, and would lead her to the real criminals.

‘Does this girl really deserve to be David Clarke’s daughter?’ he wondered, as he handed over the box to Amanda. Her hair was dyed black, and she looked like she wanted to take on the world, even though she was so small.

He had a promise to keep, though. Six weeks after the death of David Clarke, he handed over the box to her. And that was where it all began.


End file.
